by Liz Bradbury
He said, “Storm controls the weather and she’s strong.”
“I like this, Mickey, thank you very much. I’m going to put it in my office.”
My stepmother Juana came up and put her arm around me. She was wearing a black suit, a mauve blouse, and a Mexican silver broach from the 1950s pinned near the neckline. Her hair was tied up. It was dark-chocolate-colored like Sara and Rosa’s but had hints of silver. She smiled warmly, her dark eyes twinkling. She kissed my cheek then tilted her head to the side and said: “El mundo es de los audaces y amor no respeta ley, ni obedece a rey, querer es poder,” as she gave me a card.
Sara and Rosa shook their heads laughing. Judith and Amanda said, “Yes, true.” And Farrel said, “Um, was that: The world is for the audacious. Love doesn’t respect the king... um.”
“Love doesn’t respect the law or obey the king... And so the point is, Go boldly,” I said
“Roughly correct,” nodded Juana.
Kathryn blushed. I did too when I realized what Juana was getting at.
“Mom, ease off the proverbs. They’re verging on eccentric and it’s not as though you’re some old bruja at the edge of town,” said Sara.
“When have I said anything even remotely eccentric?” said Juana.
Rosa said, “What about last week when you told me, Con paciencia y saliva, un elefante se tiro a una hormiga.”
I heard Kathryn laugh and saw Sara roll her eyes.
“The ant punched the elephant with patience?” asked Farrel.
“In other words, Oops there goes another rubber tree,” I explained.
“Little strokes fell great oaks,” said Juana. “Nothing eccentric about that!”
It took me a few minutes to stop laughing. When I did, I noticed Kathryn’s half-smile and that she was looking at me more than fondly.
“I’m very lucky to have all my friends and family here in one place. It’s kind of amazing that I’ve been able to lure you all to Fenchester!” I said happily.
“It was fate, perhaps,” said Amanda.
“More cake anyone?” asked Jessie. Everyone groaned, though several offered their empty plates.
“Maggie, along with my contribution I wanted to give you this. Amanda asked me to locate it when I went to pay a bill at the county court house yesterday. It’s Victoria Snow’s will,” Judith said, handing me a sheet of legal paper.
It was a very clear copy of an old-fashioned printed and typed will form. I began to read it over.
“Look, she not only owned Fen House, she owned the Majestic. Huh, I thought that belonged to Merganser Hunterdon. Um... It mentions a financial
trust she’d previously set up to benefit some individuals, but... it doesn’t say whom. Oh and here’s the part that gives any additional cash or worldly goods outside the trust to the Irwin College Fen Scholarships. And she left her art to... ah, here, listen to this:
I prefer to imagine my studio work stay untouched by time, but if it is found, the entire contents are a bequest to Irwin College. Given by me in the name of my dear friend, Evangeline Lavender Fen.
At the very end there’s something in her own handwriting next to her signature. It says:
I declare, that there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth. Until only then, when the last piece of silver acts in unbounded charity, I vow to let the demon messengers of grief continue their torment and I shall not rest until that day, though I confess that the torment is as sweet as the charity. Luke:15-8.
Victoria Willomere Snow June 17th, 1926
“Huh, is she talking about herself tormented by the grief of losing Evangeline? Everyone thought it was Merganser tormented by the loss of Evangeline that caused him to put all that money into public works. But now we know that wasn’t what made him do it. Certainly the statute of limitations would have run out by the 1900s, yet he kept on paying her. I wonder what she had on him and why she didn’t just leave Fenchester forever and go back to Rome or Paris,” mused Kathryn.
Kathryn handed me a package and said, “I thought you should have this now. Mickey thought you might like it,” she said.
I tore off the wrapper. It was a framed cartoon cel—the one I’d been looking at at Peskeetotemburg.
“It’s Cool Cat and Colonel Rimfire!” said Mickey immediately. “Cool Cat is cool! Is he, like, your hero, Storm?”
“Yes! He’s one of them, Mickey. Kathryn, when did you buy it and how did you get it framed so fast?”
“I managed to buy it at Pesky and have Farrel take it with her. I thought you’d like it.”
“I love it. I wanted to go back. I love it.” It was the symbol of my childhood healing and Kathryn had captured it for me. It was perfect. I hugged her very hard and then I briefly told the rest of my friends how important Cool Cat had been to my childhood.
Nora said, “Did someone famous do his voice, like in Disney movies?”
“Mel Blanc did all those Warner’s voices,” said Jessie.
But Mickey and I said in unison, “No, it was Larry Storch.”
I nodded at Mickey and said, “Larry Storch did both voices.”
“Yeah, yeah, he was the bad guys and the good guys all at once,” added Mickey.
Buster trotted into the room with his leash in his mouth and sat down in front of Jessie.
Jessie said, “I have to walk Buster.”
“Is it hard to do so?” asked Amanda.
“Well no, he’s very easy to walk. He’d carry his own leash if I let him. We walked by a cat yesterday and he didn’t even turn his head. It’s just when we get to the lower end of the Mews, he wants to go back into his old house, so he pulls on the lead and he’s amazingly strong.” She looked at him. “Well, I guess it’s not so amazing.”
“Griswold and Wagner will probably never merf and ow to us again,” said Farrel. “What are we going to do with him? We can’t keep him with our show schedule. I mean, it’s one thing for Cora to feed the cats...”
“I don’t clean up after livestock, dahlings,” said Cora joining us. She reached up to pat Buster on the head.
“At least he doesn’t bark all the time like little yippy dogs. Maybe you can find someone to take him. He’s really very smart and he’s serene,” said Sara.
“Perhaps I could take him?” mused Amanda. “I’d need a few days to
Great Dane-proof my house. I’ll have to move the Rookwood vases... Could you give me a few days?”
The relief on Jessie’s face was so palpable that Farrel smiled automatically. Jessie and Farrel hugged Amanda.
As we got ready to go, Amanda took me aside and said, “I feel that Victoria’s will is rather interesting. I think this is a bit more complicated than what shows on the surface, Maggie. I don’t know the solution, but I think you will be able to figure it out. You will do so with Kathryn’s help.” She fixed me with that eagle stare of hers. Buster sat up and tilted his head and gave me the same stare.
I resolved to look over the will again.
Chapter 19
I’d kissed, hugged, and thanked everyone.
“I’m so grateful you had this party for Maggie,” Kathryn had said to Jessie before we left. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Really?” Jessie had said. “I do need your help. We’ll just have to take Buster on a few more walks and then we can deliver him to Amanda. But right now, he really does seem desperate to run toward his old backyard and I can’t always hold him. I could use some help tomorrow morning, because Farrel has to go a weekend department meeting that will be over by 11:00, but she won’t be able to help me at 10, when he has to go. I’m sure he’ll calm down about this house thing in a day or two, but I really need you tomorrow.”
Kathryn readily agreed to walk with Jessie and Buster in the morning around 10 a.m.
Back in the loft, Kathryn hung up her coat and slipped out of her shoes, which were wet from another dusting of snow. She said, “I’m glad I don’t have to get up too early
to help walk Buster. Want some coffee?”
“Yeah, and some cake,” I said distractedly. I’d propped my beloved Cool Cat cel at the end of the table and was alternately looking at it and reading over Victoria’s will.
“Kathryn, this Luke 15 reference in the Bible, do you know it?”
“Not without looking it up.”
“But you went to Catholic school.”
She brought coffee cups and a small plate of cake over to the table.
“Catholic school didn’t teach me anything about the Bible. I wish it had. It’s quoted as frequently as Shakespeare.”
“This part that Victoria wrote about repenting sinners. You don’t think she meant because she was a Lesbian?”
Kathryn was looking at her iPhone. “Luke 15:8 is the parable of the lost coin. It’s in the section that also talks about the one lost sheep. The King James version says:
“Either what woman having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one piece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it.”
“Ten pieces of silver? Victoria got twenty pieces from Merganser to pay her for the commissions. Twenty dollars a day for life. It sounds like a lottery prize. I wonder if she actually had him bring her the money each day? I don’t see why she’s referencing Luke 15:8. That passage sounds more like it’s about being careful and diligent, rather than repenting. What does the next verse say?”
“Let’s see. It says:”
“And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost.”
“Because a lost sinner returns to the fold? I wonder who she meant?”
“Do you really think it’s that important?” asked Kathryn.
I shook my head, distractedly staring at the “Cool Cat” cel. Both Cool Cat and Rimfire looked back at me smirking.
“Why do I keep thinking of the steel drummer on the subway. I guess because Larry Storch was on the subway and he did the voices for Cool Cat and Rimfire. He did them both...” Suddenly, I had an urge to make a drawing or sculpture.
“Maybe you should focus your attention on something else for awhile.” Kathryn said this in the sexiest voice I’d ever heard. I felt heat creep along my body from the floor up.
“Yes,” I said, noticing that Kathryn’s shirt was open an extra button. Suddenly I wanted to go to bed with Kathryn and use that urge to both our advantages.
“What shall we talk about?” asked Kathryn.
I exhaled. “Let’s talk about sex. How easy is it for you to talk about sex?” I asked cheerfully leaning back in my chair.
She shook her head. “Maggie, I grew up in a strait-laced northern New England family. It didn’t exist. We didn’t even hint about it. Even when my brothers were randy teenagers, they didn’t talk about it. They probably thought about it. But talk... no.”
“I was asking about you, not your family,” I chided.
“I’m the Ice Queen, remember?” she said evasively, but there was a provocative challenge in her voice.
“Well, that may be what your grad students call you, but querida, they don’t know you the way I do. Based on original research, there’s nothing icy about you,” I whispered. “That first night after I gave you a massage, I liked it when you told me to undress you.”
“You’re never going to give me another massage like that again are you?” she asked wistfully, rotating the chair slightly from side to side.
“Wait a minute, where did you get that idea?”
“You just did that to break down my defenses.”
“Kathryn, would you like me to give you a massage right now? I’d love to spend a couple of hours touching you and rubbing your shoulders and making you feel relaxed. I’ll even do it to you with your clothes on, although warm massage oil on your skin would be much more fun for both of us.”
She’d swiveled her chair to face me. She looked right into my soul without saying a word. Then she slid her foot over to me and brushed her toes up my calf and along my inner thigh. I grasped her lightly behind the ankle, then reached and lifted her other foot into my lap.
“You’re a tease, Kathryn.”
“Why?” she replied innocently, but with a spark in her eye and a voice as deep and full as Evangeline’s warm spring pool.
“Because you say you won’t talk about sex but you bring up massage. And you’ve implied more than once you don’t like to be tickled but... But now you’re teasing me with your magnificent legs and very sensitive feet. Too bad they’re covered with fabric.” I held her ankles, pulled each sock off with a little tug, and then touched the sole of her right foot very lightly with my finger.
“Oh, no,” she gasped, trying to pull away.
“Oh yes,” I said, holding her firmly. “Tell me about your sexual fantasies. Come on Kathryn, it’s my birthday. I want to know everything.”
She faced me steadily without saying anything. She held the arms of the chair as though bracing herself, ready to do battle. The look on her face was full of erotic encouragement. She breathed deeply.
“You know,” I said, “I can make you tell me your secrets the same way your brothers did. Didn’t they used to tickle you to get you to tell things?” I gently stroked from the base of her toes to her heel. She leaned her head back and breathed in sharply.
“You want me to, don’t you?” I asked in a low voice, repeating the caress.
“Oh, God,” she moaned, closing her eyes. She arched her back. I watched for signs of arousal and was rewarded with the delightful contour of hardening nipples stretching the soft fabric of her shirt.
“Tell me what you fantasize about when you masturbate,” I insisted. But I didn’t stroke her this time. I wanted to hear just what this strait-laced northern New Englander would say.
Her face flushed as she collected herself and answered, “For the last few months, I’ve thought about you.”
I shook my head. “Too easy. You have a fertile, passionate imagination. Tell me about your wilder scenarios. What happens?” I asked resuming the caress and watching her every move.
“Please.” She strained to keep control.
I was painfully hot, but this was way too interesting to end.
“We can’t interrupt this now. You don’t honestly want me to stop, do you?” I asked sincerely. I didn’t really want to force her. She didn’t speak, but she shook her head no, then she challenged me with a direct stare and lifted one eyebrow.
The she-devil on my shoulder smiled so wickedly I felt the heat of her breath.
“Hmmm,” I said stroking her again, “didn’t you once ask me about my interrogation techniques? Is this what you imagined?”
Kathryn laughed in spite of herself.
“You’re dodging me.” I became merciless, tickling her slowly and gently but relentlessly. She could have pulled away easily. One hand is no match for two legs. But she didn’t stop me. She let me go on and on until she was groaning and begging.
I stopped and said, “Tell me. Or shall I start again?”
“No, no,” she pleaded, catching her breath.
“Then tell me about your wildest fantasies. Where would you be?” “In the bed,” she confessed.
“Just in the bed? Well OK, who else would be there?”
“You.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
“Would you be undressed completely or...”
She nodded.
“And then? What would happen next?”
She shook her head not willing to tell me everything, but clearly wanting me to figure it out.
“OK, then tell me what my motivation would be.” She didn’t understand so I said, “What would I be trying to achieve?”
“You’d be doing this.”
“You like this.” I thought about it, considering what was actually happening between us. Finally I said, “I’d be making you give up control?”
She gave a t
iny nod.
“What would it take? What would I have to do?” She wouldn’t say, but I thought I knew. Maybe I should try a simpler route.
“Tell me what you would NOT enjoy.”
“Pain.”
“I would never want to hurt you. Now tell me, what’s the highest number of orgasms you’ve had in one night?” I quizzed, beginning to stroke the sole of her foot again.
She wriggled and gasped. Finally she said, “Um, five.”
“Five in a row over a few hours?” I asked curiously.
She nodded. “I was younger.”
“And that lover made you give up control?”
“Almost,” she admitted.
“What stopped her from being successful?”
“I did.”
“I see,” I said, thinking.
“Do you?” she whispered.
“Kathryn, is this a matter of spending days and days in bed?”
She smiled and said, “I like the idea of spending days and days in bed with you. May we do that sometime?”
“As soon as possible, but you promised to help walk Buster tomorrow, so let’s concentrate on this evening. It’s a time thing then?”
“Well,” she said cryptically.
“Appliances? Strap-ons, vibrators, that battery operated rabbit thing?”
“What rabbit thing?” she asked with confusion.
“I don’t know, some kind of vibrator that straight women like. They sell them at those sex-toy parties. A vibrator then?”
She gave a tiny shake of her head to indicate I wasn’t quite on the right track.
“Fine, we’ll save that for another time. So... What then? Tell me.” I began to stroke her feet again but she wasn’t going to give it up. So I started to list every kinky toy I could think of, to see how she’d react. She was totally turned on and amused. I was getting a heck of a load of information and was desperately trying to remember everything, but I hadn’t hit on her fantasy yet.